Listening to John Coltrane in the red wounded beast, driving to a sad Texaco, I found myself thinking about the art of saying good bye -
Rick, in Casablanca, knew the right words to say - Ilsa had boarded the silver aircraft - Louis Renault had smiled his foxy smile -
But I wasn't Rick - I never knew what to say - I would clasp a hand awkwardly - I would feel shy kissing a proffered cheek -
Many of my farewells were melancholy affairs - someone I loved would board a train - I would be left behind, alone on the platform, remembering wild moments -
When the time came to leave Doctor Bagi's, I wish I'd spoken all of the words that later came to me -
I should have said - this was such a rare experience for me - I feel, at last, at ease with my body - I feel as light as air -
But all I said was - thank you - good bye -
Perhaps, though, they knew how I really felt - I hope so -
Many of my farewells were melancholy affairs - someone I loved would board a train - I would be left behind, alone on the platform, remembering wild moments -
When the time came to leave Doctor Bagi's, I wish I'd spoken all of the words that later came to me -
I should have said - this was such a rare experience for me - I feel, at last, at ease with my body - I feel as light as air -
But all I said was - thank you - good bye -
Perhaps, though, they knew how I really felt - I hope so -
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